was such a fucking loser.

I just read through all of my old journal entries and, man, I was depressing. I whined about everything. Every fucking little thing. My sense of humour sucked, too. Probably because I didn't have one because all I did was whine. So what if I sucked at trumpet when I first started? So what if I got cut from choir (okay, that one still stings a little)? Everything that happened was a fucking fiasco.

So, now I'm 21. I've been 21 for 3 days. And it has been amazing. There was a snowstorm last night, and everyone still came out and drank themselves silly with me. It was wonderful. I was impressed. At about 1am, I stepped outside and there was a limo outside Reservoir Lounge and I was like "okay, Vab, Linh and Tes, you guys get a cab! We'll wait for the next one!". Low and behold, the limo was for US! We had a Justin Timberlake dance party. It was epic.

Things are pretty great. This alone-time, this ME-time, is working out well in my favour.

I'm quitting my job at the gallery. I can't do this every weekend. I work from 9 to 5 here and then 6 to 2 at the playhouse. Its one thing that they treat me like dirt; its another thing that I don't necessarily agree with the owner's values about art. It seems now that this is less of a passion project and more of an investment opportunity. Maybe I just agree with art for art's sake.

When I think of something profound, I'll write it in here.